


days into weeks, weeks into years

by ObscureReference



Series: (had me feeling like a) ghost [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Disabled Character, Flashbacks, Insecurity, Kissing, M/M, Past Character Death, Spoilers, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-15 22:39:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9261134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObscureReference/pseuds/ObscureReference
Summary: Prompto relives his death. He wakes up to find it's still been ten years from where he last left off. Communication is hard.They get there. Eventually.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm tired of looking at this, so here you go. Feel free to tell me if you noticed any mistakes! I wrote a lot of this on my phone and then transferred it to my computer, so I may have missed something. 
> 
> Fun Fact: This exact AU is something I crave in every fandom I've ever been in, but this is the first time I'm actually writing it out.
> 
> EDIT: Ao3 user westofnowhere pointed out that Noct would now be "His Majesty" and not "His Highness" because he's king now, so all instances of "His Highness" being used in the present have been changed.

_Ardyn flicked his fingers. Prompto fell into darkness.  
  
When he woke up again, Ardyn and Noct were both gone. Gladio and Ignis were unconscious next to him at the foot of the throne, and no amount of shaking would wake them up.  
  
He heard a shout and the clang of metal against metal. Prompto climbed the pile of rubble and peered through the gaping hole in the wall. Far, far below, Noctis parried Ardyn's sword. Armiger weapons swirled around them both, Noct's blue aura contrasting sharply against Ardyn's malicious red. They were moving so quickly it was almost impossible to distinguish their forms. Blow met blow. They were an even match.  
  
The Citadel was devoid of demons. Something Ardyn did must have kept them out. Ardyn himself was the worst demon of them all, however, and if Noctis was alone with him, he was in trouble. As much as it pained him to leave Ignis and Gladio alone, he figured they would be safe enough here. Noctis was the one in the most danger at the moment. Still, he spared his loved ones one last look before he sprinted out of the Citadel.  
  
It seemed to take a hundred years before Prompto was on the front steps again, chest heaving and adrenaline rushing through his veins. He didn't bother hiding his presence; both Ardyn and Noctis were too engrossed in one another to notice his arrival. The air felt thick with magic. It stung his skin. He swore he could feel the air vibrate every time one of Noctis' weapons clanged against one of Ardyn's.  
  
"Ah!"  
  
The blur that was the kings' bodies separated. Noctis flew back, skidding across the asphalt. There was blood in his hair. His clothes were torn. Ardyn was on him in an instant, his phantom rapier raised high.  
  
Prompto couldn't stop himself from shouting. "Noct!"  
  
His gun was raised before he even thought about it. With an aim he had never felt so sure of, Prompto shot Ardyn in the back. Twice. The gunshots echoed in the deserted courtyard.  
  
Ardyn's body jerked, though the wounds weren't enough to fell him. He spun, his face dripping with daemon ichor. Prompto froze.  
  
"No interruptions!" Ardyn snarled, more monster than man. He raised his hand. There was a flash of black—dark magic—and before Prompto could move, he had been shot.  
  
_ Crossbow _, he thought, but he wasn't sure. It had been too fast. Whatever it was, the weapon had definitely been laced with magic. The pinprick spot in his abdomen where he'd been hit had grown instantly cold, and the feeling only spread. It felt like there was still a bolt sticking out of him, despite there being nothing there._

 _His gun clattered to the floor as he clutched his stomach. His insides felt unnaturally cold. The feeling consumed him, his bones now lead.  
  
His knees gave way under him like a puppet with his strings cut. He couldn't breathe. There were spots in his vision.  
  
The last thing he saw was Noctis knocking Ardyn back with a well placed kick, jumping to his feet before Ardyn could right himself. He was looking at Prompto. Noctis' mouth moved, but he couldn't hear anything. Prompto felt completely numb. He slumped into the rubble.  
  
Then all was dark. _  
  
  
  
  
Prompto woke up.  
  
The room was dim, though the low light of a lamp illuminated the space immediately surrounding the bed. And he _was_ laying on a bed. A really soft one, with lots of fluffy pillows. If he didn't know better, he would have assumed it was a bed fit for a king.  
  
And then he remembered he had passed out in the middle of the throne room, and for all he knew he _was_ lying in a bed fit for a king.  
  
Ignis sat in a chair by his bedside. His eyes were closed, and it was difficult to tell if he was sleeping or awake. Prompto thought he sat too stiffly to be sleeping, however. Plus, he didn't know anyone who could sleep while holding their cane perfectly straight and keeping their hands folded neatly on the top like that. Though if anyone could do it, it would be Ignis.  
  
He didn't open his mouth to get Ignis' attention. He wasn't sure what to say.  
  
Physically, he felt a lot less like garbage than he had previously. Mentally, he was reeling.  
  
_I died_ , he thought. It was the only two words he could think. _I died, I died, I diedIdiedIdiedIdied_.  
  
He had just been dreaming. But it felt so real, so much like a memory, that Prompto was certain it was a memory. He wasn't creative enough to come up with a scene as vivid as that.  
  
He slid his hand across his bare stomach. The skin was smooth, but he imagined he could still feel the invisible spot where he'd been shot. Goosebumps rose on his skin.  
  
Somebody had taken his clothes. Again. Thankfully there was no paper gown in sight this time. He was wearing silk pajama pants. No shirt.  
  
He must have made too much noise because suddenly Ignis inclined his head in Prompto’s direction. Prompto froze.  
  
"Are you awake?" Ignis asked softly, quiet enough that Prompto would have missed it if he had actually been sleeping.  
  
"Ignis," Prompto said, sitting up. He stopped himself. A million questions bounced around his head, and he wasn't sure where to start. Or if he wanted to start at all. "How long have I been gone?"  
  
He thought he could guess pretty well by this point, but he was still afraid of what the answer would be. Ignis's grip tightened on his cane.  
  
"So you remember now," Ignis said. A statement, not a question. "However, I believe that this is a conversation best left for when we are all present."  
  
That long then. He’d thought so.  
  
Reluctantly, Prompto agreed. "Yeah. Okay."  
  
All that was left to do was wait.  
  
Ignis shifted in his chair. He hovered close by, uncharacteristically awkward. He kept clenching and unclenching his hands. Prompto counted the stress lines on his face. He didn't recognize most of them. They were new.  
  
Ignis finally broke the silence, leaning his cane against the side of his chair. He lifted his hand and then held it there in the space in front of Prompto's face. The tremble in his hand was so subtle Prompto nearly didn't notice it.  
  
"I'm afraid I lack the proper faculties to fully take in your arrival," Ignis said. "May I?"  
  
It took a second for Prompto to realize Ignis was asking permission to touch him.  
  
"Oh!" He said. "Yeah, sure, go ahead."  
  
It shouldn't have been that weird. Ignis had done the face touching thing to him before, usually before the four of them got too rowdy or after they had all exhausted themselves. Prompto knew how it went. He had seen Ignis touch Gladio and Noct like this more than once.  
  
But that had been then. This was now. And now Ignis was trailing his fingers along the edges of Prompto's hairline like it was entirely new territory. Perhaps it was.  
  
Prompto held still. It seemed to take forever for Ignis to grow tired of the far corners of his face and move more toward the bridge of Prompto's nose instead. His hands were warm on Prompto's skin. When his fingers brushed over Prompto's lips, Ignis let loose a shuddering breath and paused. His hand cupped Prompto's cheek, and Prompto's heart skipped a beat. He suddenly felt twenty all over again.  
  
Or, he guessed he was still twenty. But it felt like early twenty, anxious twenty, barely-passed-nineteen twenty. Like the first time Ignis was touching him all over again. Like the first time Prompto ever noticed the looks Gladio and Noct sent his way, and he allowed himself to think _maybe_. The first everything. That twenty.  
  
"My apologies," Ignis said stiffly, his voice breathy. "It has been quite a while. I..."  
  
_Wanted to see you_ , Prompto finished. To see him the best way Ignis could. He placed his palm over Ignis' hand and leaned into the touch.  
  
"I'm here," he said. His lips brushed Ignis' wrist as he spoke. Everything was so confusing, but Prompto knew how to do _this_. "I promise I'm really here."  
  
Ignis sighed. He was so close that Prompto could feel his breath on his mouth. There was a tension between Ignis' eyebrows that he wanted to rub away. He angled himself more towards Ignis and kissed him instead.  
  
He was older, and his body felt slightly broader in a way Prompto should have expected and hadn't, but underneath it all he was still _Ignis_. Prompto loved him. He loved all of them. Once upon a time, he thought Ignis loved him too. He hoped that hadn't changed.  
  
Ignis' other hand immediately settled on the other side of Prompto's face as he melted into the kiss. His breath was warm, and for a man so well known for his self-control, his movements now barely toed the line of desperate. Prompto wrapped his arms around Ignis' neck and kissed him back with equal fervor. It was sloppy, as far as kisses went, but Prompto had never been refined.  
  
Ignis leaned too far forward or Prompto leaned too far back. Either way, Prompto's back hit the bed.  
  
"You're _here_ ," Ignis' voice was quiet, heady. Prompto wasn't even sure he was meant to hear. "You're really here."  
  
Prompto responded by pulling Ignis closer, until Ignis' body covered him completely. The weight felt good. He searched for the right thing to say.  
  
"I hope we're not interrupting anything."  
  
Prompto separated his lips from Ignis' and tilted his head back. Noctis stood—upside down, according to Prompto's tilted vision—just beyond the entrance, smile teasing but eyes tight. Gladio stood just behind him, his expression unreadable.  
  
Ignis instantly untangled himself and stepped away, leaving Prompto alone on the bed.  
  
"My apologies," he said. "I'm afraid we got carried away with ourselves."  
  
Prompto propped himself up, feeling too out of place to speak. His face felt flush, which meant his chest must have been flush as well. He didn't look down to check.  
  
"So," Gladio drawled as he and the king wandered over to Prompt's bedside. "Should we cut right to the chase?"  
  
That seemed best, though the lump in Prompto's stomach felt heavy. But he didn't think he could take waiting any longer.  
  
He blurted, "How did I die?"  
  
Noctis breathed in.  
  
  
  
  
_"Prompto!" The name clawed itself out of Noctis' chest as Prompto hit the ground, his voice raw. "Prompto!"  
  
Prompto didn't move. He laid face down atop the stairs, unnaturally pale.  
  
Noctis saw red.  
  
The rest of the fight was a blur. He knew he had killed Ardyn, but he couldn't remember how. Viciously, he knew. Without mercy.  
  
But that didn't matter, because Noctis was stumbling over the debris in a haste to get to Prompto. His breath was ragged from a combination of the fight and fear. He sank to his knees and pulled Prompto's upper body into his lap, ignoring the way the rocks dug into his legs, as well as the warm blood dripping freely down his face. Prompto's skin felt cooler than it should have. Noctis desperately tried to remember the first aid lessons Ignis had taught him, but all he came up was a litany of "fuck" and bile in his throat.  
  
Belatedly, he remembered the emergency Phoenix Down in his back pocket. When he pulled it out, it was rumpled and slightly bent but still usable. He grabbed Prompto's hand and wrapped Prompto's limp fingers around it. He waited for it to turn to ash._

 _Nothing happened.  
  
"Come on," he muttered. "Wake up."  
  
The feather remained inactive. It's orange and red coloring stood stark against Prompto's skin.  
  
"Shit," Noctis swore. He adjusted Prompto in his lap, pulling Prompto closer as though the rise and fall of his chest could coax life back into Prompto's own. The feather fell to the ground. He left it there.  
  
Noctis brought his hand to Prompto's neck to feel for a pulse. As he did, Prompto's head fell back. A stream of blood trickled from his nose.  
  
"No," Noctis said quietly, wiping the blood away. "No, no, no, no."  
  
"Noct?"  
  
There was Gladio, leading Ignis down the front steps. They moved sluggishly, exhausted from Ardyn’s magic, but they picked up the pace when Gladio spotted Noctis holding Prompto. He said something to Ignis that Noctis didn't catch. It made Ignis' face tight. Gladio didn't look any happier.  
  
"Ignis!" Noctis' voice cracked. "It's Prompto, he—Ardyn did something! He won't wake up."  
  
Gladio helped Ignis lower himself to Noctis' side. "Is he dead?"  
  
"_ No! _" Noctis cried, his head snapping up so fast it hurt.  
  
Ignis reached out, finding Noctis' arm and trailing up until he could lay his hand on the king's shoulder. "I believe Gladio is referring to Ardyn."  
  
When Noctis breathed in, it felt like the whole world shook. His bangs fell into his eyes. "I—Yeah, he's dead."  
  
"Good," Gladio said. He was staring at Prompto, frowning.  
  
"A king must remain calm in even the most dire of scenarios," Ignis said. "Now, do you have a Phoenix Down?"  
  
Ignis dropped his hand from Noctis' shoulder and waved through open air until he found Prompto's cheek. Then he found Prompto's neck, checking for the pulse like Noctis had been too panicked to manage.  
  
"It didn't work," Noctis said.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I had a Phoenix Down," Noctis repeated. "It didn't work."  
  
"Then we'll try one of mine," Gladio said, pulling a slightly neater feather out of his own bag. He laid the fiery feather on Prompto's chest. Nothing happened.  
  
Noctis' grip tightened until his fingers were digging into Prompto's arms. He wanted so badly for Prompto to wake up, shake him off, complain he was hugging him too hard. But he didn't.  
  
"It's not working," Noctis said, his voice strained.  
  
Ignis didn't say anything to that. His fingers pressed firmly on Prompto's neck.  
  
"He's not breathing," he said quietly.  
  
Noctis shook his head. "Then we use a potion. Maybe he doesn't need a Phoenix Down yet."  
  
"There's no pulse," Ignis said.  
  
"Then we figure it out! We find a better Phoenix Down, or—  
  
Ignis shook his head, his lips pressed together tightly. "Sometimes they don't work—"  
  
"It _ has _to work!"  
  
"Sometimes a person is too far gone—"  
  
"He can't be!"  
  
"Your Highness—"  
  
Gladio silently stood up. He walked over to one of the Citadel walls that had remained standing and punched it with all his might. He didn’t make a sound._

 _Dimly, Noctis was aware of the sound of bone cracking. Gladio had no doubt broken at least one of his fingers, if not more. Noctis wasn't paying much attention. His eyes were on Prompto's pale, lifeless face, on the red smudge under his nose from where Noctis had wiped the blood away.  
  
"Gladio," Ignis said firmly. "Stop."  
  
"FUCK!" Gladio shouted. "We were so _ fucking _close!"  
  
There was another smack of skin against concrete. Noctis knew he should do something, but he couldn't will himself to move. He couldn't look away.  
  
So close. So close to being finished, to reclaiming Insomnia, to coming home again, all together. So close.  
  
"Gladio," Ignis repeated. This time his voice was soft, like he could barely manage to speak. "We're not done yet. His Highness still has to ascend the t-throne."  
  
Ignis' voice cracked, and that was all it took. His shoulders had begun to shake. It was all too real. In the background, Gladio roared in anguish.  
  
Noctis broke._  
  
  
  
  
Prompto waited.  
  
"You saved me," Noctis said. "Ardyn knocked the three of you out somehow, but you woke up early. He had me pinned, and you distracted him long enough for me to get the upper hand. He killed you for it."  
  
Oh.  
  
The dream had been so real that Prompto had already known the truth. But hearing it out loud was somehow different. Somehow worse.  
  
"There was a funeral pyre," Noctis continued. "Nobody had the resources for a proper funeral back then. We hadn't started recovering yet. Sorry."  
  
Prompto cleared his throat. "That's, uh. That's fine."  
  
He hadn't thought about his death before, and he didn't want to now. Anything involving the concept of him and a funeral felt too weird. He wasn't sure how to feel about the fact he didn't actually have a grave either. He couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing. The idea of having a grave at all _sucked_.  
  
Gladio uncrossed his arms.  
  
"That was ten years ago," he said. "And now you're here."  
  
Ten years. Ten _years_.

At least he hadn't been guessing too far off the mark.  
  
Prompto took them in properly for the first time. Noctis had filled out much more than he had expected. His hair was slightly longer and a little more wild, but it was pushed back out of his eyes. The bridge of his nose was different somehow. Wider, maybe, or just flatter. Prompto could see the remnants of Regis in his face. The king held himself taller than the prince had, excepting the very last day Prompto had seen them, when Noctis had finally begun to grow into his role as a royal leader. Out of all of them, he looked the most different, but he was still recognizably Noctis underneath it all.  
  
Gladio's hair had grown longer too, and his beard was thicker than it once was. A band kept the worst of it tied up. His tan had deepened from long hours spent in the sun, no doubt from training. He was still buff as hell. Apparently he hadn't slowed down at all in the past ten years. Prompto wasn't surprised. A few new scars littered his face and arms, a few cutting into his tattoos, but none were terribly noticeable. Prompto wondered about the stories behind them all the same.  
  
Ignis' scar had in no way faded, but his face seemed to have adjusted to its presence because it somehow stood out less than it first had. He kept his eyes shut, just as he had immediately after the accident. His hair was mostly the same, though he seemed to have physically aged the most out of the three of them. Prompto could imagine how good he must have looked in court, right at Noct's side. Even sleep deprived and missing a shirt, he looked regal. The muscles in his arms were still defined, which suggested he had kept up training despite the trouble with fighting his injury had first caused. If he knew Ignis at all, Prompto guessed that he was doing spectacularly.  
  
They were all taller, broader, older. Still incredibly—and now more maturely—handsome. They held themselves with the posture of dignified men who had seen it all, a confidence thrumming underneath their skin that had still been developing the last time Prompto had seen them. They were all new and improved.  
  
Prompto lowered his eyes, feeling like the expired model.  
  
"Do you recall how you arrived?" Ignis asked. "You mentioned Gentiana."  
  
Prompto played with a loose thread on the bed. They were all looking at him. He wanted to cover up.  
  
"Uh, yeah. She suddenly showed up, I guess? And then said something like, 'You made a promise' or whatever. Or, 'A promise has been fulfilled.' Something like that." He tried to mimic her voice, but it was hard to get the accent right. Still, the corner of Noctis’ mouth quirked up in a smile. Prompto smiled back.  
  
"And then you woke up in the throne room?" Gladio asked.  
  
Prompto shook his head. "No, I woke up... somewhere? I don't know." It had been wet and a little cold. He remembered that much. "And then I passed about again. And then I was in the hospital."  
  
"The hospital," Gladio said flatly.  
  
Even though Ignis couldn’t see anything, he and Noctis somehow managed to share a look. They'd probably had a lot of practice with that the past few years now that Noctis was king. Prompto could only imagine.  
  
"Yeah, except it was like one of those abandoned hospitals from a horror movie. The whole place was totally barren." He didn't think he was forgetting anything. "Gentiana led me here, and then you guys found me. And then I passed out from exhaustion or something, I guess."  
  
"Ignis said you hyperventilated," Noctis pointed out.  
   
Prompto made a face. "Agree to disagree."  
  
Gladio rolled his eyes. Prompto pointedly ignored him.  
  
Ignis came to the rescue. "Gentiana roused us in the night. She brought us to you. Needless to say, it was quite the surprise."  
  
Prompto remembered how they had looked at him—what, a few hours ago? It was still dark out, so it couldn’t have been too long. But they really had been seeing a ghost. Which would have been a lot more hilarious if the ghost hadn’t been him. "I bet. Surprise?"  
  
"Good surprise," Noctis said. A little bit of tension left Prompto's chest. Just a little.  
  
"So, wait," he said. "She got you all separately, or..."  
  
He trailed off, hoping he didn't have to finish the question he was itching to ask. Thankfully, Gladio got the hint.  
  
"It's bad form for the unmarried king to share a bedroom," Gladio said, a hint of something like pride in his voice. It was the first time he had seemed to lighten up all evening. "But trust me, Iggy and I were close by."  
  
A lot of tension left Prompto's chest, though not all. He got what Gladio meant. They were still together after all these years. Good.  
  
Of course, they had been together minus him. But part of him had always known they could keep going without him. He was glad it was true.  
  
"Back to the subject," Ignis prompted, though not unkindly.  
  
Noctis nodded. "Did Gentiana say anything to you? Why she brought you back?"  
  
There was something about the way he said "back" that made Prompto pause, but the others ignored it, so he did too.  
  
"Assuming it was her at all," Gladio added.  
  
Prompto groaned. "Ugh, _no_. She wouldn't talk at _all_. She didn't say anything to you guys then?"  
  
"Not a thing," Ignis said.  
  
"Cool," Prompto said. "Very mysterious. Great."  
  
It had been a while since he'd exercised his sarcasm muscle. It felt good.  
  
Ignis twisted his neck, stretching the no doubt sore muscles there. Who knows how long he'd been sitting in that chair waiting for Prompto to wake up, waiting for answers? "The hour grows late. I doubt we shall get very far by speculating tonight, and His Majesty still has a long day tomorrow. Shall we retire?"  
  
"Right." Noctis nodded. Then, like it was nothing, he said, "You coming to bed, Prom?"  
  
_You coming to bed, Prom?_ Prompto had heard that phrase a million times before, albeit from a much younger prince. He was out of place and out of time, but suddenly it was like being thrust back to the beginning. He suddenly remembered all the times the Noctis had awkwardly fallen asleep against the Regalia window, only to drag the rest of them into a hotel as soon as a town came in sight. He remembered all the times Gladio had ruffled his hair as Prompto fussed with his camera and said, "Save it for the morning," while Ignis reminded them that they had to get up early tomorrow, no sleeping in, _yes, even you, Your Highness._ Noct would grumble and say, _You coming to bed, Prom?_ The answer had always been yes.  
  
"Or you could stay here," Gladio said. It was so hard to tell what he wanted. His tone was flat, and he looked at Prompto coolly, giving away nothing.  
  
Prompto fumbled for a response. Neither option seemed particularly pleasing. A beat too long passed as he floundered.  
  
"Why don't you sleep here tonight?" Ignis suggesting lightly, gathering himself to his feet. "After all, it's been a long day for us all, and I'm sure Prompto wouldn't like to be kept up any longer."  
  
"Right," Noctis said after a moment. "Sorry. You want to stay here for now?"  
  
He wore a pinched look. Prompto eyed his bedsheets and didn't look anyone else in the eye.  
  
He was already in bed. He might as well just stay where he was. No use in making everyone else rearrange themselves, no matter how much practice they'd had sleeping together in the past. It had been a long time since then anyway, and he was sure the other three had their new routines down pat.  
  
After a moment, he nodded. "...Sure."  
  
Ignis bid him a goodnight, and Prompto watched, filled with silent regret, as his former lovers filed out of the room. It wasn't until the door had long shut behind them that Prompto worked up the nerve to turn off the lamp on the bedside table. The room was thrust into darkness. He squeezed his eyes shut.  
  
There had been no talk of what they were to each other. Of what they once had been. Was he just supposed to figure it out? Did they just expect to _know_? Maybe the fact they hadn't said anything at all was clue enough.  
  
But then Ignis had kissed him. Or did it not count because _he_ had kissed _Ignis_? Prompto didn't know. Noctis had invited him to bed, but Gladio seemed like he wanted to refuse. Or was Prompto just reading him wrong? He had done that a lot, back in their early days, and Gladio had probably changed since the last time Prompto had seen him. And then Ignis had just suggested he stay. He wasn't sure what to take from all that. He wished they would just tell him if he was out like yesterday's garbage or not. He wasn't any good at guessing games.  
  
In all honesty, it had been a decade. Whether they had mourned his death or not, he had been _dead_. For a long, long time. Prompto would have been terribly surprised to find they still felt remotely the same. In fact, he would have bet otherwise. It wasn't possible.  
  
He pulled the covers up to his chin and rolled away from the door. That was the thought that lulled him to sleep.

 

 

He woke up late, of course. The clock on the bedside table said it was nearly noon by the time he finally rolled out of bed, and even then he only woke up because the sunlight had found the perfect angle to streak into his eyes. He muffled a groan into his pillow as he got up.  

There was a small table opposite the bed, and on it sat an assortment of shirts and pants he guessed were probably in his size. A tray with soggy cereal and now cold toast had been laid there as well. Someone had come in while he was sleeping and laid everything out. Maybe a butler or a maid of the palace. Maybe not. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

He ate the toast, not feeling particularly hungry, and found useful items like a new toothbrush in the connecting bathroom. He put them to good use. Then, with nothing better to do, he got dressed.

His new clothes fit well enough. The plain black t-shirt was the right size, though his jeans were a little long. For such short notice, whoever had picked out his new clothes had done a good job. He figured they had used the clothes he’d been wearing the day before for reference.

He thought about asking where those were. Then he remembered that those clothes had probably been the same set he had died in. He decided to put off asking for them back.

It was probably closer to one in the afternoon by the time Prompto finished getting ready for the day, and he was saved having to debate his options by a knock at the door. Gladio was on the other side.

“Hey, big guy. What’s up?” Prompto tried to keep it light and not let on to the fact he’d been considering burying himself in bed and never coming out again just moments before.

Gladio didn’t respond immediately. He stood there for a moment, his eyes tracing Prompto’s face and taking him in. Prompto stood still, leaning on the doorway, unsure what to do. He hadn’t felt this nervous around Gladio since he was a teenager meeting Noct’s scary bodyguard for the first time. He didn’t want to think about what that said about them now.

Yesterday, he’d kissed Ignis, and Ignis had at the very least allowed it. Noctis had fallen back into routine quick enough to invite him to bed. Gladio had said maybe fifteen words to him the whole time. Out of all of them, he had the least idea of where he stood with Gladio. For all he knew, he didn’t like the fact Prompto was around at all.

Prompto’s eyes dropped to the floor.

When Gladio spoke, his voice was low. He didn’t say hello. “There’s something you need to see.”

Well, if that wasn’t ominous as hell. Prompto swallowed and nodded. Gladio led the way. Prompto trailed maybe a step behind him, but it was impossible not to notice the way Gladio kept glancing back every few feet, like he thought Prompto was going to run away or something. 

The Citadel was a huge place, but they had been walking for maybe three minutes in awkward silence before Gladio came to a stop in front of a large, imposing door. The Caelum royal crest was inscribed on the door. Prompto gave him a look.

“His Majesty's royal quarters,” Gladio explained as he opened the door. Presumably there should have been a guard stationed outside the room, but Prompto supposed that Gladio was the best protection anyone could have. He followed Gladio inside.

“I thought Noct would be doing royal things this time of day,” Prompto mused, following Gladio inside. He quickly saw that the room was devoid of other life.

“He is,” Gladio said. He closed the door behind them and leaned against it.

Prompto’s eyes wandered over the overly large bed and the other furniture before he reined himself in. The contents of this bedroom weren’t his business anymore. “Then why are we here?”

If Gladio had just wanted to talk, they could have done that in Prompto’s guest room.

“Look around,” Gladio said. He gestured to the room. “Tell me what you think.”

Prompto was sure this was some kind of test, but he wasn’t sure how to pass. Gladio gave him a look and no room to argue, so Prompto turned away.

The first thing that caught his eye was the bed. It was large. Like, _extravagantly_ large, even for a king. Noctis always complained whenever he slept alone. Prompto couldn’t imagine Noctis sleeping by himself in such a big bed. It was big enough to fit more than one person, easily.

Like, say, three people.

“You were close by, huh?” he teased, quoting Gladio’s words from the day before. He cocked an eyebrow. Glaido nearly smiled, and Prompto’s heart soared. “I thought it was bad form for the unmarried king to share a bedroom?”

Gladio shrugged.

“It is,” he admitted. “But the staff tend to turn a blind eye when it doesn’t matter if your king marries or not. Officially, Iggy and I still live in the Amicitia and Scientia households.”

Prompto cocked his head. “Why wouldn’t it matter if Noct gets married? Doesn’t Insomnia need an heir?”

That had always been a worry when they were dating, at least in the back of Prompto’s mind. The first week of their trip to Altissia had been a sour mix of excitement and sorrow because of it.

After that, well. There had been more important worries.

Gladio waved him off. “Tell you later. Just keep looking for now.”

Hesitantly, Prompto did. Now that he knew what to look for, he could see Ignis and Gladio’s influence on the bedroom. There was a table in the middle of the room, not unlike the one in Prompto’s room. There was a cushioned armchair at its edge that looked to be exactly Ignis’ tastes. A cute little statue sat on the dresser. Prompto could easily imagine Iris had gifted it to her brother.

Prompto began to wander around the room while Gladio watched, looking carefully but touching nothing. Ignis’ tea set was neatly arranged on the table. A picture of a young Noctis and former King Regis had been placed on the bedside table. The sword Noctis had been gifted on his sixteenth birthday hung on the wall. He found a bottle of cologne that he knew Gladio liked. All little things mixed together in the room, knick-knacks and trinkets that made a place home. Prompto looked at some things—the sunglasses, the coat thrown over the chair—and traced them back to their owner in a heartbeat. It was harder to tell where other objects had come from, and he guessed they were group efforts.  

There was a shelf on the far wall, and Prompto had just begun to wander over to it when the bedroom door opened again. Gladio had silently moved out of the way while Prompto hadn’t been paying attention. Noctis and Ignis walked in, talking in low voices about “council” and “resignation.” Prompto couldn’t catch most of it. Noctis glanced his way, but he didn’t say hello, and soon they both seated themselves at the small table in the center of the room. The conversation didn’t pause at all, but Noctis did place his hand in Ignis’. Ignis swiped his thumb across the back of Noctis’ hand as they spoke.

Prompto softened. They looked good together. He imagined this is what they had been like for the past ten years: sitting hand in hand while discussing politics. The thought made him smile.

Gladio had snuck up on him when he wasn’t looking, suddenly leaning on the wall next to Prompto’s shoulder. He gave Prompto a look that said _go on._ Prompto turned back to the shelves. There were other picture frames and figurines to look at, but something shiny and square caught his eye. His breath caught.

"My camera," he said in disbelief. "You kept it?"  
  
"Of course we did," Gladio said softly. Noctis and Ignis were still talking quietly in the background, but he held no doubt they were listening.  
  
Prompto picked up the camera and turned it over in his hands. It wasn't even dusty. He flipped the on switch. The screen came to life.  
  
Gladio watched as he flipped through the pictures. Selfies, group photos, mid-battle pics. All from their trip to deliver Noct to his wedding and then save the world. He skipped to the last picture and found it was exactly as he remembered it.

It was group photo from right before their march into Insomnia. The background was dark from the endless night. Only the flash had illuminated their faces, casting odd shadows across their skin. Past Prompto was planting a big, stupid kiss on Past Noct's dirty face. Noctis somehow pulled off a cross between a grimace and a smile. Ignis stood on one side of Gladio; Noctis and Prompto were on the other. Gladio's arms were wrapped all of their shoulders, pulling them all uncomfortably close. Prompto could still remember how tightly he’d held all of them. He thought there would be bruises.

Ignis' face was practically squished into Gladio's armpit, his arm wrapped around Gladio's back either to reciprocate the hug or push him away. It was hard to tell. Gladio was smiling big, ridiculous for their circumstances, knowing that picture may have been the last one they ever took. They were all sweaty, dirty, and, at least in Prompto's case, red-faced, wondering if this was the last time they were going to be together.  
  
It had been the last time. Just not for everyone else.    
  
"You kept it," he repeated, breathless. Something without a name tugged at his heart.  
  
Gladio stepped close. He laid his hand on Prompto's shoulder. "It was all we had left of you. We weren't just going to throw it away."  
  
They had kept his camera and made sure it was in good shape. It had been dusted, charged. They had taken care of it even though they could have just thrown it away. They had kept it all this time.  
  
Gladio's hand moved to the back of Prompto's neck. "Did you think we were going to just toss it?"  
  
"I don't know," Prompto said honestly, still looking at the picture. "I didn't think about it. I thought..."  
  
He didn't know what he had thought.  
  
"I guess I thought that you would have just gotten rid of me already."  
  
Gladio stiffened like he'd been struck, and Prompto suddenly realized what he'd said. He nearly dropped the camera.  
  
"Wait, no! That's not what I meant." He shoved the camera back on the shelf haphazardly and winced as it clattered against the wood. "I just didn't expect you guys to have kept m—it all these years. I—"  
  
Gladio flipped him around, and Prompto's back hit the shelf. He boxed Prompto in, hands on Prompto’s shoulders, keeping him in place. Without making a sound, Noctis had somehow appeared behind Gladio.  
  
"You thought what?" Noctis breathed. He looked devastated. A sea of guilt washed over Prompto.  
  
Ignis stayed in his chair, but he had a steely look about him. "It seems reparations are in order."  
  
"No, shit, I didn't mean it like—" Prompto bit his tongue. "I'm not saying—"  
  
"You thought _what_?" Gladio's jaw was set. Prompto's head snapped up to look at him. "That we'd forgotten? That we'd moved on? That we'd gotten over you? As if. Guess again."

“Well, how am I supposed to know?” Prompto grabbed Gladio’s wrists, surprised at the heat in his own voice. “I’m not a mind reader!”

His voice cracked. Embarrassing. Prompto stared ahead despite it.

Gladio narrowed his eyes, and Noctis still had that look on his face that made him impossible to look at. Ignis was hidden behind their bodies. Prompto didn’t know if he could look at all three of them at once and still keep it together.

“Yeah,” Gladio said, his voice suddenly much more even. “You’re not. So let’s talk.”

He dropped his arms, and Prompto let him go. His fingertips tingled from where his skin had touched Gladio’s, if only for a moment.

Prompto swallowed.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, let’s talk.”

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone is wondering how Ardyn killed Prompto so easily, I'm going to mention the fact he is basically immortal and can seemingly stop time. He canonically knocks out Gladio, Ignis and Prompto with magic super easily before the final battle. The reason he lets Noct get the Crystal in the first place is because he's so powerful it wouldn't give him anything to kill Noct at the level he's at. So he could probably kill a regular person with some magic/super powerful armiger weapons no problem. (He probably only stabbed Luna because that kind of death is more personal and drawn out.) 
> 
> I already have bits and pieces for another part, but it's nowhere near finished yet, so we'll see how long it takes. Feel free to leave a comment below or hit me up on my [tumblr!](http://someobscurereference.tumblr.com/) I love feedback and talking to people! 
> 
> Also, here are some [notes](http://someobscurereference.tumblr.com/post/155609117040/days-into-weeks-weeks-into-years) about this part of the fic that gives some background on Noct, Ignis, and Gladio's perspectives for this part, if anyone is curious.


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